


stays the same

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 21:12:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stays the same

  
Mostly it's just an ordinary day.

They wake up and it's not even the first thing on their minds. They wake up and it's like any other day in which he twines his fingers in her hair and she lets out a moan, that's half _I'm still asleep_ and half _hello_. She mutters “good morning” into his mouth and they don't acknowledge it, today they are getting married, yes, but it's a distant thought when he reaches his hand between her legs and she chuckles against his throat, hands running through his bed hair, his recently-cut hair because there has been preparations, of course. And she could see her wedding dress waiting, hanging from the closet, if she looked around the room, but she doesn't look, she looks at Roy coming up after kissing her shoulder, licking his lips like after a particularly delicious dessert and he lies on top of her blocking out the world, and the shy, awakening sunshine whispers between their bodies, the little room left between their bodies.

She brushes the tips of her fingers against his side; the scars she knows well, the shape of his breathing that she's come to know even better.

This is just another day. It looks like any other, it is a beautiful day as it is, but not in the way that it might _mean something_ , the sky –the bit of sky they can see from their bed– turning from orange and sugary to blue. One of those days familiar in that they make love while the bed is still warm from their sleeping tangled forms. She is still half asleep when he pulls the t-shirt she sleeps in over her head and the word in her mind right now is not _wedding_ but _roy_. They plan breakfast between kisses, the schedule of the day different from any other, the schedule but not the rhythm. The rhythm of the day is the rhythm of him inside her, lazy and confident, knowledgeable, stopping for a moment or two when he just wants to hear Riza's breathing, the rich sounds of her body against the noises of the city waking up.

This will not change.

Tomorrow they will do this again; or perhaps they'll oversleep, the will run late –work; the world doesn't stop for a wedding, and they have always been busy people– and perhaps hungover as a memento of the day, and they will get ready in a rush, sharing the shower, his hands through her short hair and it will make them stop, Roy's lips curled into a grin and uncurling into a “well, we are already late, after all” and his hands following the water as it runs down her body, Riza equally mischievous “nobody could begrudge us taking the morning off” and feeling the cool tiles in the bathroom against her as Roy gently pushes her backwards.

But things will not change. _They_ will not change. Today is an ordinary morning, and tomorrow will be too. Just as ordinary as they want it to be.

After she comes Roy traces the contours of her breasts with the palm of his hand, rough skin over soft, enjoying the trembling he extracts from her.

`I think there was something we were supposed to be doing today?´ He asks her, feigning ignorance.

The jokes between them are not good jokes, but they are theirs: Riza looks at him with eyes narrow from sleep and orgasm, clasping his hand around her throat gently.

`Honestly, I can't remember what it was,´ she replies.


End file.
